Heat Wave
by JC4ever
Summary: Oh, my, are we excited/sad/mad about the series finale tomorrow night? This is a one-shot, angsty fic about our darling Bobby and Alex, with a naughty ending. Enjoy and review : I don't own them and there's an appearance by a not dead character from L&O.


Heat Wave

Alex Eames strolled purposefully into the bullpen, her heels making a staccato beat on the tile floor. She dumped her bag onto her desk, and carefully set her coffee down.

Her partner, Bobby Goren looked up and muttered, "Morning, Eames."

"Yeah, yeah," she brushed her hair out of her face. "Any luck on the web searches?"

"Uh, no," he stammered. "So, do you have court today?" He noticed the black blazer and skirt, the lavender silk t shirt, with a cream tank top peeking out.

"Um hmm," she flipped open her laptop. "Thought I'd get on the financials for Benedict until I have to go."

"Alex." his serious tone, as well as his use of her Christian name in the squad room made her bring her head up sharply.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't mean it like that."

She paused, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. She was fighting a headache, courtesy of the three martinis she'd downed last night. "Look, I'm your partner, not your assistant," she said quietly. "We've had this discussion before, and I've had enough. Twelve years and I am more than your water carrier."

Terror clouded his eyes. The only words he heard were "had enough."

She read his expression, stood and leaned towards his desk. After a furtive gaze in the vicinity she hissed, "Not 'had enough' as in quitting. I just want a little more respect."

He stood as well and leaned forward, "I _**do**_ respect you, and you know it."

Captain Hannah stood in the doorway of his office, observing his two detectives locked in what appeared to be an intense conversation. Lord, Goren, don't fuck this up, he thought.

Bobby and Alex's conversation was interrupted by her cell. "Eames," she answered crisply. "Uh huh, Yeah, Claire, I'll be there in ten." She ended the call, "Look, I gotta go. Let's talk later, okay?" her tone was considerably softer.

He nodded, feeling marginally better, "Lunch?"

"Doubt it," she said regretfully, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. "Judge Ianello."

After she left, Hannah waved his former partner into his office, "So, how's the Benedict case coming along?"

"Slow," Bobby replied. "Still think it was a financial motive, so a lot to look at."

Hannah closed the office door and indicated Bobby should sit. "What's up with your partner?"

"Um, nothing, she had to testify in one of the cold cases she cleared," he said.

"Look, I'll be direct. You two have a spat?" his tone was serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Spat? Christ, Joe, you make us sound like newlyweds. We're fine," Bobby dismissed the notion.

"A partnership is like a marriage, and any strife can be dangerous, man," Hannah reminded.

"It was a disagreement, that's all." Bobby said firmly. "It happens, you know."

"Hell, yes," the captain laughed.

"Well, I need to get back to it. Anything else?" he rose to leave.

"The counseling sessions. I appreciate you keeping those appointments, Bobby," Joe said warmly.

"Sure," Bobby cracked a small smile, and headed back to his desk.

Alex hurried into the courthouse and greeted the prosecuting attorney, Claire Kinkaid. "Hey, how's it going?"

Claire clicked her cell closed, "My husband is a workaholic, and my kids are being raised by the nanny."

"Well, he is the DA," Alex teased her friend.

"Oh, yeah, and everyone thinks I get the plum cases 'cause I sleep with the boss," Claire groaned, waving her to a conference room.

"Fun being back in the trenches?" she inquired, opening a bottle of water.

"Yeah, it is," Claire grinned. "You should know, back together with Bobby."

"You make it sound like we're married," Alex scoffed.

"Give it time, girlfriend, give it time," the prosecutor laughed. "Well, we've got a couple minutes. Judge Ianello hasn't changed much, so the direct should go pretty much like we prepped."

"Then there's the defense attorney," Alex countered.

"Paul Robinette," Claire replied. "Former ADA, now crusading defense attorney. He's tough and he's smart." She paused, "although too stubborn to plead out his client."

"His client killed three people, including her sister's three month old baby," Alex's tone was clipped.

"Keep the anger and the process you used, you'll do fine," Claire coached. "Ready?"

The direct examination went as expected as Alex had known Claire for years, and was comfortable with her courtroom style. In spite of a break to raise a family, the lawyer hadn't lost her edge.

Detective Eames explained the course of the investigation, from the murders twenty-five years before, to the events leading to the case landing on her desk nine months ago. Many years of experience, her attention to detail, as well as the profiling skills learned from her partner made her a powerful witness. Even the lunch break and Robinette's prolonged cross-examination didn't seem to impact the momentum.

Alex walked from the courthouse a little after four, thankful the ordeal was behind her. The muggy August heat slapped at her face as she descended the steps, making her regret her choice of wardrobe for the day. The suit may have looked professional, but between the layers and the stockings she was far from comfortable. Resolutely, she headed back to the office.

Once she reached the eleventh floor, she scowled as the air seemed still and humid. "Hey, Daniels, what's up with the air conditioning?" She locked up her purse, and dropped her laptop on her desk.

"Maintenance has been working on it all day, not making much of a dent. Cooler in the conference rooms, so everyone's duking it out for them," he added. "Your partner's watching surveillance discs."

"Great," she muttered. "What's all this?" she indicated the four cartons stacked by her desk.

"The financials from that nonprofit your vic was running," He ran his hand under his collar. "Ira has the rest of the stuff, but he said to tell you this was your gift. The boy has it bad for you," Daniels teased.

"Yeah, right, I could be his...older sister," she snarked.

She went into the video analysis room, and nudged her partner, "Any hot leads?" she inquired sweetly.

He made a face, "Hot? Only thing hot is the bullpen." He'd ditched his jacket, but the tie was still firmly in place. Bobby took a long swig from a sweating bottle of water.

"Oh, lovely," she made a face. "I need a conference room for the gifts that Ira left me," she waved her hand towards her desk.

"How'd it go in court?" he inquired as she took a seat next to him, and snitched the water bottle from his hand.

"Fine, actually. Claire has got the case down, and I was pretty pumped for the cross. May have a verdict next week," she replied, downing the rest of his water.

"About yesterday..." he hesitated.

"I'm listening," she prodded, tossing the empty water bottle towards the recycling bin.

"My professor friend, she didn't mean to be patronizing. I've known her from back when I was working with Declan," he explained.

"I know," she said. "It just felt like...my thoughts on the case didn't matter. I was office furniture."

"I don't feel that way, I didn't mean to exclude you," he was earnest.

She waved the thought away, "Look, we've worked really hard to get to a good place in this partnership. Equals. Yesterday I felt like we were back to the first six months and I didn't like it."

He sighed heavily, "You know how I get so caught up in a thought or a theory. That's all it was."

"As long as it doesn't happen again," she deadpanned.

"I promise," he said gravely, then broke up when she started laughing. "You drank the rest of my water," he elbowed her.

"Sue me," she elbowed him back, then reluctantly got to her feet. "Need to get to those damn files."

"Need help? Carrying the boxes, I mean," he stammered.

She burst out laughing, "As long as I don't have to carry your water."

And so the evening went, Bobby watching surveillance discs, Alex in the adjoining conference room poring over the financial records, making notes on her laptop, occasionally scribbling something on the murder board. She had stolen a fan from under one of her colleague's desks, and it did provide a little relief from the stuffiness of the room. Their boss and their colleagues left, leaving Goren and Eames working.

At eight o'clock, he appeared in the doorway, bearing a large bag and two bottles of diet soda. "Hungry?"

By this time she had shed the blazer and her shoes, "Sure, as long as it's cold."

He moved one stack of files, and opened the bag, "Grilled chicken salad with guacamole and a fruit cup."

"Oh, yum," she took the containers and plastic fork, "Thanks."

They ate companionably together, their earlier discord forgotten. Bobby had shed his tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. They discussed, pondered, and just plain speculated over suspects and motive. After an hour, Bobby returned to videos, while Alex slogged through the paper files.

This was one of those "media" cases, so there was pressure from upstairs to solve it expediently, even if it meant pulling an all-nighter.

Bobby found his mind wandering as he cued up another disc. He felt badly about the debacle yesterday with his professor friend. Not for the world would he have hurt his partner's feelings. He chewed that thought over for a moment. Alex's feelings. Funny how when something like that had happened before she'd just say something snarky or just let it roll off her back. What was different?

_**They**_ were different, he decided. Whether it was his firing and subsequent year with the FBI, or her aborted attempt to quit the department in solidarity with him, things had changed. Once they were reinstated at Major Case, _**she**_ was happy. She smiled a lot, she was relaxed, and she seemed more open in showing her affection for him. Of course they had spent time together during their time in exile as she facetiously called it. But they didn't have the day to day bond that working together brought.

Happy. And what about him? Bobby was happy that he had his job, his safe place back. And Alex, he couldn't imagine Major Case without her. Joe Hannah's offer had made it possible, and he was grateful to his old friend and former partner. Even notwithstanding the mandatory therapy sessions, he was in a good place, he decided. He refocused his attention on the big screen.

Alex, out for a bathroom break at midnight, appeared in the doorway of the video room with a bottle of water, "Need this?" she handed him the refreshment.

"Hell, yeah, thanks," he opened the bottle and tipped it back, eyes closing. He opened his eyes to regard his partner. Her hair was now pinned up and the t shirt was gone. She padded around the office in the skirt, tank top and stockinged feet.

"Ready to call it a night?" she inquired.

"Got a second wind," he shook his head. "But you go if you want."

"Nope, I'm not ready to give up either," and she returned to the murder board in the other room.

As the clock crawled towards two, Bobby headed to the john, then stopped to make some coffee. He dug thorough the break room freezer and found the leftover ice cream cake from Captain Hannah's birthday lunch. Remembering Eames had missed out on the party, he scooped some of the dessert into a bowl, and poured some liberally sugared coffee into a cup. He made his way to the conference room where Eames was hard at work. He paused in the doorway in astonishment. She was holding on to the back of a chair, slipping off the second of her stockings then stretching her back, not unlike a cat. From that angle, Bobby could easily see the lacy bra she was wearing, not to mention some nice cleavage.

She jumped as she sensed his presence, "Jesus, you scared me!"

He felt his face flush as he tried to compose himself.

She walked over and took the coffee and dessert from his hand, deliberately brushing her fingers over his hand longer than necessary.

"Fr-from the captain's party, His-uh wife brought it for lunch today. Since you-um..." he stammered.

Alex's eyes were merry, and she wore a smirk. "Busted," she whispered, then turned to sit down. She proceed to spoon up some of the ice cream and brought it slowly to her mouth, "Mmm, thanks." Her eyes drifted closed as she savored the dreamy coldness.

"..welcome," he muttered, watching her. Jesus, Goren, get a grip, he admonished.

"What?" her eyes flew open. "Cat got your tongue?" she used her own tongue to catch a drip of ice cream.

"I-uh," he chuckled nervously, sitting across from her. "Ev-everytime I've seen you tonight you've, um, lost an article of clothing."

"To cool off," she grinned, taking a sip of coffee, and then another nibble of dessert, "This is about better than sex," she sighed, "Not that I'd know, lately."

"Ea-mes," he drew out the syllables in a high pitch.

"What happened to Alex?" she inquired.

"Oh, she's, uh, you're um, here," he muttered, trying to avoid her gaze. What the hell was up with her?

Or with him, for that matter, trying not to think of how his body had reacted to the little unintentional peep show of a few minutes ago. "You're my partner and my best friend, and I was a little distracted."

"Like what you saw?" she slurped a bit more ice cream.

"Yes, damn it," he admitted. "You know I did."

"That's nice, Bobby," she grinned. "Sometimes get sick of being just one of the boys."

"No danger of that," he muttered."It's fatigue," he sought an explanation aloud. "You're getting punchy."

"Nope, I'm serious. I like that you see me as a woman," she said.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation, it's like being in the shrink's office," Bobby let that slip.

"Really?" she leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands. "You talk about me in your sessions?"

"You're my partner, and my best friend, so yeah, it's one of the things that..." he broke off, afraid to say too much.

"Tell me," she said. "If you want to."

Bobby avoided her gaze, "She asked me if I lo-loved you."

"And you said?" Alex's heart was thumping in her ears, her face flushed. Oh, great, Alex, now you'll really scare him off.

"I said I love you like a sister," he looked into her eyes.

"You don't have a sister," she countered. "And if you did, I bet you wouldn't look at her like..." Alex broke off in horror.

"Like I'd like to bend you over this table right now?" Bobby braced his hands on the table, and stood, leaning over her. Jesus, Dr Gyson was right, he thought in that moment. He did love his partner, and not in a sisterly way. For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the hum of the fan and their harsh breathing. Their eyes locked, betraying a truth long denied.

"Oh, my God, I'm in love with you," Bobby said at length, sliding back into his chair. He rubbed a shaking hand over his sweaty face.

"Finally," Alex breathed. "Finally , finally, _**finally**_!"

He brought his head up sharply, "You...you knew?"

"I_** hoped,**_ for a really, _**really**_ long time," she said fervently.

Bobby looked around the conference room, and barked out a wheezing laugh, "And we figure this out here, of all places."

Alex moved towards him cautiously, "Where else?" she snarked.

At that, he burst out laughing, then swept her into his arms, "My darling snarky Eames."

"Your darling snarky Alex," she corrected gently, tipping her face up to his.

Their mouths met at last, at last. "Ready to go home?" he asked into her hair.

"I rode the ferry today," she giggled.

"Then come home with me," Bobby took her hand.

"We have to be back in, um, five or six hours," she reminded him as she gathered up her clothes.

"It's either my place or the crib," he jerked his head in that direction.

"Or your car?" Alex suggested.

The drive to Brooklyn seemed to take forever, but the early morning streets were relatively quiet, and they found themselves closing the door behind them before three o'clock.

The lock had barely clicked, before Alex's back was shoved against the door and their mouths crashed together.

Bobby yanked her tank top and bra off, then knelt to shimmy her skirt and panties down her legs. His mouth pressed to her belly almost reverently, even as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"Let me...let me get your clothes," she begged, as his hands reached up to cup her breasts.

"In a minute," he branded her skin with his tongue, his teeth.

Alex felt her knees buckle as his tongue slid lower, and she whimpered, "Bobby, oh, oh!"

"Tell me, tell me how it feels," he continued his carnal assault, caring less about his own pleasure at the moment.

She felt the flames spread from between her legs, outward to her whole body, "Like heaven," she squeaked, then the second wave hit and she dissolved into sobs, her fingers twisting in his hair.

At that, Bobby stood, now nearly past the point of return himself. He kissed her deeply, managing to gasp, "Been a while for me, don't know..."

Alex understood, yanking at his fly and divesting him of his pants and underwear, "Want you, need you," she gasped as he lifted and impaled her on him.

First she feared for the door, then she feared for his health as he crashed into her again and again.

Bobby was in sensory overload, lost in her taste in his mouth, her body wrapped around his. His fingers gripped her ass, as he pounded over the edge. Knees buckling, they fell into a rather graceless heap on the floor.

Alex felt him shaking against her, not knowing if the sobs were his or hers. With infinite tenderness, she held his head to her breasts, stroking his hair, murmuring wordless endearments.

Bobby's arms clutched at her, feeling as if he was truly home at last.


End file.
